


Recarm

by TheDragonsLittleBird



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Blood, Explicit Language, F/F, Resurrection, Temporary Character Death, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 02:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16823698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDragonsLittleBird/pseuds/TheDragonsLittleBird
Summary: It’s like all the people she dares love are violently taken away from her right in front of her eyes.





	Recarm

**Author's Note:**

> Had this thing sitting on my phone and decided to upload it since there's barely any Futaba/Makoto out there. Might wanna skip it if you're squeamish or dislike blood.
> 
> (I'm also not sure about Futaba's characterization and think I effed it up, but oh well, not gonna leave this unpublished.)

She acts on instinct.

They are exploring Okumura’s palace, this being their third trip into it. Akira is fighting with Yusuke, Ann and Morgana in the front line, thus she, Ryuji and Haru have been designated as backup. To attract less attention, they have split up the backup group as well; Ryuji and Haru went on ahead, scouting the paths Akira hadn’t taken and the enemies he and the front line team might have missed. She and Futaba have been following them from further behind; her Persona is a bike, and Futaba’s is a UFO, so they’ll have no trouble catching up to the others in case they start to fall behind; there is no danger of getting lost either, as Futaba can tell exactly where the others are.

Since the two really have an advantage when it comes to mobility surpassed only by Morgana’s bus form, they have allowed themselves to catch a break in one of the safe rooms up ahead.

They have gotten distracted.

It’s only for a second, but as they walk out of the safe room, the very first thing they see is a shadow, a huge one, so close they might as well have bumped into it.

She can clearly see one melee hit from this thing alone will practically tear you down for good; its attack power is definitely deadly, no doubt.

They are both on foot, unprepared, so neither can really react accordingly by escaping, fighting back or defending themselves.

The only thing Makoto is able to process is that the shadow is clearly aiming for Futaba.

Futaba isn’t a fighter; if that thing hits her, she’ll be dead in one hit for sure.

So Makoto does the only thing she can think of, protective instinct washing over her, and throws herself in the path of the attack intended for the redhead, wrapping her arms around her.

It’s like her mind goes blank; one minute she’s standing next to Futaba, the next she’s practically embracing her, the other girl letting out a startled yelp. She barely even notices exactly what has happened until she acknowledges the blinding pain on her left side as the shadow pulls its sword out of her lower back, blade covered in red. She feels warm blood immediately start to run from the wound down her back, and from the quantity of it, she knows she’s done for. The sword mustn’t have gone upward into her lungs, considering she’s not choking on her own blood, but who knows the extent of the damage the blade might have caused.

Certainly enough damage, that’s for sure.

She winces as she feels the pain get gradually, slowly, worse with each passing second. Yet she feels somewhat relieved because it hit her and not Futaba. Futaba isn’t a fighter.

Futaba isn’t a fighter.

She suddenly realizes she has to finish the thing off or they’re both dead; even if they call for backup, none of the others will make it there in time. She still has enough strength to use a single Persona attack, so she musters what little energy she can, rips her mask off her face and casts Freila on the shadow.

The effect is immediate; though the shadow has a deadly attack power, its defense is lacking, and ironically enough, the thing is weak to nuclear-based attacks. It evaporates instantly.

Despite feeling herself getting lightheaded, the pain starting to become impossible to ignore, she endures and takes a look around; no more shadows. Good. She starts to let her body go limp, but Futaba, with great effort, holds her in place and mutters, voice shaky and full of fear:

“Queen?”

She tries to make herself stand at least a little more upright not to make Futaba support her weight, and lets her mask fall to the ground. It lands with an obnoxious, loud clank, disrupting the silence that has fallen upon the hallway since the shadow disappeared.

She really wants to lie down. How has she even managed to stand for this long?

“It’s okay, just... just get in the safe room and call for them, you’ll be safe in there.”

Her voice is rougher than normal, and she feels a faint taste of blood in her mouth; judging by that and the sharp, burning, localized pain she suddenly feels, she guesses the sword must have impaled her right through the stomach. She tries not to let it show; Futaba’s already freaking out as it is.

God, she needs to convince Futaba to go back into the safe room. The last thing the girl needs is to see someone die in front of her again.

And there’s no mistake, she’s certainly dying.

“W-what? You can’t stay out here, you’re hurt! We need to get you fixed up!”

The desperation is clear in her voice and Makoto feels awful; had she paid more attention to their surroundings, Futaba wouldn’t be having to go through this shit again...

Futaba’s voice breaks her out of her line of thought.

“Joker, get Panther and Mona here fast, Queen’s been hit, I don’t know how bad it is.”

The redhead pulls off her goggles and holds the older girl tighter.

Makoto can’t let her see it.

“Oracle, listen,” she says, trying to gently push Futaba off her, to no avail; the girl clings to her like a lifeline, “I don’t think they can get here in time to get me fixed up...”

“Then you do it! You have Diarama, don’t you?”

“I would, but I don’t have enough power left” Makoto coughs a bit and disentangles herself from Futaba enough to press her right hand against the wound in her lower left back; she hisses as the gloved fingers come in contact with it, and as she pulls her hand back the white fabric is now crimson red.

She wonders why this isn’t hurting even more, and figures it’s the adrenaline. As she gets more lightheaded, she’s pretty sure she knows another reason, too.

She notices Futaba looking at her hand, wide-eyed, and quickly tries to get it out of her line of sight, but the smaller girl presses her own hand against the wound to try and stop the bleeding.

“You’re bleeding too much,” she says, voice shaky, “we need to get you out of here. Do you have any supplies?”

Makoto forces herself to reply, feeling her strength leaving her by the second.

“No” she breathes, trying to lean on Futaba as little as possible, “Joker has them all.”

“I already contacted him, they’re coming back,” she sounds scared. Makoto hates hearing her like this. It sounds like when she had been faced with the cognition of her mother. They had sworn to never let anything happen to have her feel like this again.

Yet here she is, bleeding out in her arms. Almost a repeat of the past, as if the universe has a sick, cruel sense of humor.

“Futaba, please,” she notices she let herself slip and used her real name as she tries to push the girl off her again, “I... don’t want you to see this, okay? I’m not...” she winces as she feels a sharp pain hit her side as she speaks, “I don’t think I’m getting out of this one.”

“Stop,” she can hear a hint of tears on Futaba’s voice now, “Just, don’t, please. Don’t say that.”

The redhead uses her other hand to pull Makoto towards her and starts walking them both back to the safe room, all but dragging the taller girl along.

“Can you walk at all?” she asks, anxiety seeping through her every word, “Just a few more steps to the safe room?”

“Oracle, I don’t want you to see me...” her voice is weak, but Futaba cuts her off anyway.

“Mako, _please,”_ the younger girl begs, and Makoto’s heart seems to physically hurt at her tone, “please, I won’t leave you here. I won’t.”

Makoto looks her in the eyes for a second; eyes that, though visibly filled with tears, are also steely with determination. Deciding she can’t deny the girl this, she holds back a cough she knows is filled with blood and tries to nod, voice weak.

“Yeah, okay. Okay. If you want me to.”

She allows Futaba to pull her back towards the safe room, and all but falls down on the other girl once they’re inside. Futaba somehow manages to hold her for enough time to slowly lower her to the floor on her chest, and Makoto still feels pain well enough to wince when she’s set down.

She tries not to regret her decision to go into the saferoom when she hears Futaba gasp as she sees her wound.

Judging by the girl’s reaction, it must look even worse than it feels.

She knows she doesn’t have much time, though; she can feel herself grow weaker and slip away with each breath.

“Futaba, listen,” she allows herself to drop the codename this time; it’s the last time she’ll ever say anything anyway. Getting each word out is more painful and difficult than she had imagined it’d be, “I... I’m sorry for... for this. I’m sorry for dying on you, I didn’t...”

“Stop it, you’re not dying,” she hears tears in Futaba’s voice more clearly this time, and the little conscience still remaining in her makes her feel horrible, especially when the younger girl grabs her hand in desperation, “Joker and the others will be here anytime now, they know where we are.”

 _‘They’re not getting here in time,’_ she wants to say, but she knows she can’t say much, so she gets to the point:

“I just... saw that thing aiming at you and I couldn’t...” she can’t stop the cough this time and feels the coppery taste of blood in her mouth, letting the warm liquid run down her lips; no point in trying to hold that in now. She just hopes Futaba doesn’t see it, “I wasn’t gonna let it hurt you...”

“Hey, don’t talk, it’s worse for you if you do” she can faintly feel the redhead pressing down on her wound almost forcefully, but Makoto knows it’s useless; she’s lost too much blood already, “Come on, Makoto, please, please don’t die, not because of me, please...”

She hears Futaba’s breathing pick up drastically, and she’s too lightheaded to do anything about it, but in her haze she remembers Sae.

She couldn’t save her sister.

She feels a single tear roll down her cheek. Well, at least she won’t be a burden on her anymore.

“Hey...” she manages to breathe out, feeling her eyelids slipping closed, “can you... tell my sister...?”

She doesn’t have the strength or breath to finish her sentence as her sight goes black. Futaba’s voice is the last thing she hears, yelling frantically, but she can’t make out the words.

_‘Sorry, Futaba.’_

She lets out one last breath.

_‘Sorry, sis.’_

.......................................................

  
“Joker, hurry up, please, she’s dying!”

She can practically feel the group’s mortification at her words, Ann’s particularly, and tries not to completely freak out when she notices how desperate his words are on the other end.

_"Oracle, we’re almost there, we had to take a detour to avoid some shadows, don’t let her black out, you hear me?”_

She can swear she hears Ryuji curse. She can also picture Ann holding her breath.

It’s no secret Ann has feelings for Makoto.

She knows because she feels the same, herself, too.

And now Makoto is bleeding out in front of her, _wheezing,_ as if her lungs aren’t working, and there’s _blood everywhere_ —

She grips Makoto’s hand more forcefully and tries to force her breathing to slow down. She can’t have a panic attack, not now.

She can’t let Makoto die.

Not because of her.

“Makoto, stay awake” she pleads, shaking the girl a little, but she’s unresponsive, “Please, please don’t...”

She feels a tear run down her cheek and her heart all but stops when she hears Makoto let out a shallow sigh. She can’t tear her eyes off her, so it doesn’t take long for her to notice the girl’s stopped breathing.

“God, no, no no no” she shakes the brunette more strongly now, still getting no response, “please, don’t, Mako, _please...”_

She thinks of turning her around to press down on her chest, but she doesn’t know first-aid procedures, and doesn’t know if it would be safe to move her at all; even though she’s not breathing, blood’s still coming out of that wound, a lot of it. She inwardly curses herself for not knowing any healing spells and not having any medicine.

They didn’t think they’d need any of that.

Makoto had healing spells.

Her eyes end up catching a glimpse of Makoto’s face, and she notices a line of blood running out of her mouth.

Deep down, she knows she’s already dead. But she refuses to accept it; she _can’t_ be dead. Not her.

Not Mako.

Her own breathing picks up again, and the tears are flowing freely now.

“Joker, please, she’s not breathing!”

_“What...?”_

It’s Ann’s voice, and she sounds every bit as shaken as Futaba is herself. She doesn’t have time to even process it as Ryuji’s almost infuriated voice is heard over Ann’s:

_“Fuck! Goddamn it dude, hurry up!”_

_“We’re almost there, Oracle, just hold on!”_

She’s never heard Akira sound so shaken, so _scared._ It’s like he’s panicking.

It scares her even more.

“What do I do?” she chokes out, her heart beating so rapidly it’s like it’ll jump out of her chest. She tries to remember advice for panic attacks, forcing herself to try and stay calm, and inhales deeply, letting her breath out slowly.

 _“Can you check for a heartbeat?”_ It’s Yusuke’s voice this time, and though he’s not completely freaking out like Akira or Ryuji, or on the verge of crying like Ann, he’s clearly scared. Even he, who’s always the voice of reason, always so level-headed, seems to be breathing more heavily than normal. Haru must be terrified, because she’s said nothing so far.

And Morgana, uncharacteristically, has been dead silent ever since she said Makoto had been hit.

Hearing her friends all act so out of character makes her panic even more. Ryuji completely blowing up out of fear, Ann’s usual bubbly behavior replaced by horror, Yusuke being actually shaken, Haru and Morgana being driven into silence, and _Akira_ sounding completely lost and scared...

For the first time ever since she faced the cognition of her mother in her own palace, Futaba’s terrified.

“Yeah. Yeah, I... just a second...” she replies, forcing herself to snap out of her thoughts and lowering her head, pressing her ear against the upper left side of Makoto’s back.

She somewhat expects to hear a faint, but present, heartbeat.

She hears nothing but dead silence instead.

It’s like the ground is caving in under her knees, because Makoto Niijima can’t be dead. The first person to reach out to her, to treat her with kindness; all of them had, really, but Makoto had been there first, and even though she didn’t know exactly how to help, she has always been there for her. Besides Akira, Makoto is the person she is closest to. Unlike Akira, she doesn’t see her as a sister.

It’s like all the people she dares love are violently taken away from her right in front of her eyes. She tries not to think of how Akira might be next if he continues acting like her big brother.

Futaba wonders if she’s cursed.

She says nothing. She doesn’t dare to. She stays where she is, hoping to hear something, _anything,_ but there’s nothing. Makoto’s dead, and she knows it, but she doesn’t dare speak.

She finds herself physically unable to tell the others their friend is gone.

Even less so to say she jumped in front of her to save her and got fatally wounded in her place.

It feels like it’s been hours before the sound of Yusuke’s voice startles her.

_“Oracle?”_

She says nothing, still.

_“Oracle, can you hear us?”_

It’s Akira now. She just inhales in a shaky breath and mutters:

“I...”

There’s only silence for a few seconds.

 _“Futaba, please”_ Ann doesn’t elaborate, but Futaba can tell by the tears in her voice and the way she uses her real name that she’s desperately asking for an update on Makoto’s situation.

How does Futaba even say what happened?

All she can let out, again, is a single word.

“She’s...”

More silence.

 _“God, no”_ Ann’s voice falters and breaks halfway through the sentence and Futaba’s heart breaks even more.

 _“This is bullshit!”_ Ryuji sounds like he wants to kill someone, _“She can’t be dead, no way!”_

Nobody says anything until Akira chokes out, voice uncharacteristically low and hoarse:

_“We’re almost there.”_

Futaba automatically nods before remembering they can’t see her, but she still says nothing.

The tears are still running down her face, but it’s like all air has been taken out of her lungs. She doesn’t speak, she doesn’t blink. She just stays kneeling beside Makoto, still grasping her hand, not moving a muscle. Like it hasn’t dawned on her yet.

Futaba thinks she really did love her.

She never told her.

What are they going to tell her sister?

How will Sae react to learning her little sister, her only family, is dead?

How will they even explain what happened?

She’s too numb to jump when the door is violently opened and Ryuji is the first to run in, panting, what little of his face that can be seen under his mask flushed and red. He stops dead on his tracks when he sees all the blood.

“Fuck, no...” his voice is shaking. The others run in, one by one, and Futaba can’t bring herself to look any of them in the eye. Each is completely silent, until Ann literally pushes her way past the others, and her horrified gasp is audible.

“No,” Ann chokes out, and Futaba can pinpoint the exact moment the blonde girl starts to break down as she runs to Makoto’s still form, all but falling on top of her body and sobbing into her bloodied back.

Futaba closes her eyes forcefully and lowers her head, her own tears spilling out, refusing to let go of Makoto’s hand.

She hears something crash, and as she looks up, she sees Ryuji, maskless, covering his eyes and looking completely miserable, body shaken by sobs, the remains of an object he threw against the wall scattered across the ground next to his feet.

Akira is wiping his own tears away, Yusuke looks pale, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, and Haru is covering her mouth, tears visibly running down her face, body shaking. Ann’s voice as she sobs sounds physically pained. Morgana looks mortified, but also lost in thought. It’s somewhat confusing, but none of them besides Futaba notices it, and she doesn’t have the strength to question it.

“She jumped in front of an attack meant for me,” Futaba chokes out, voice weak. Ann and Ryuji don’t seem to hear it, lost in their own grief, but Yusuke lowers his head and Haru covers her eyes.

Akira walks over to her, taking off his mask, eyes red and filled with tears, and places a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t you dare think this was your fault” his voice is hoarse and pained, but also kind, “She did it because she wanted to protect you.”

“But if I had paid more attention...”

She tries to protest, but he kneels next to her, failing to hold back a sob.

“Futaba, there was nothing you could have done.”

He pulls her into him, and she finally lets go of Makoto’s hand. It’s like a floodgate is burst open and she buries her face into his chest, freely sobbing into it as he rubs comforting circles on her back.

She knows she shouldn’t get so close to him, shouldn’t let him be her surrogate brother.

Everyone close to her ends up dying. It’d be better for him to stay away.

But his embrace is too comforting, and right now, she needs comfort.

Morgana suddenly and hurriedly steps closer to them.

“It might just work...”

They all stare at him in utter confusion, even Ann, who, though still sobbing, eyes puffy and red, arms and face smeared with blood, slightly turns around to look at him.

“It hasn’t been long since she died, right?”

Morgana presses on, impatiently, and Akira turns to him, gaze reprimanding.

“Morgana, what are you...” he starts, but Morgana walks closer and cuts him off.

“I think I can... let me try something,” Akira gets up and pulls Futaba with him, “Lady Ann, can you step away from her for a moment?”

Ann furrows her brow in confusion, but complies. Futaba recalls something Morgana has said to her some time ago about reviving a teammate who had fallen in battle, and she feels a tiny spark of hope light up within her.

“Are you...?”

Morgana nods, practically cutting her off.

“It’ll take a lot of my energy, but if I can do it...”

He closes his eyes and breathes out deeply. Then, a loud sound of glass shattering echoes throughout the safe room, and Zorro appears, shining, right behind him. The Persona motions with his arm, and, as everyone watches intently, Makoto’s wound starts to slowly close on its own, as if the air alone were cauterizing it.

As the wound completely closes, all color returns to Makoto’s previously deathly pale face. Then, Zorro vanishes, and Morgana opens his eyes. He starts to fall backwards, but Akira hurries and catches him before he can hit the ground, kneeling down behind him and holding him against him by the arms, supporting him; Morgana looks absolutely exhausted.

Nobody dares say anything for a few seconds, and Futaba starts to lose hope, when Makoto gasps deeply, as if she had been underwater for hours.

Futaba thinks she couldn’t possibly describe how relieved she feels when she sees Makoto breathe again.

The brunette starts to cough violently and push herself up before being practically tackled by Ann, who’s pulling her into her arms and burying her face into her neck, crying on it.

Ryuji lets out a relieved laugh, and approaches Makoto. All of the others, sans Akira, who’s still supporting Morgana, come closer as well, sighing in relief and happiness. Morgana speaks up, a little alarmed:

“Guys, give her some space, let her breathe,” his voice sounds breathy and tired, but proud and relieved as well, “She just came back from the dead, I think she could use a little air.”

They all step back a little at his words, and Ann stops holding her so tighly.

Makoto looks utterly confused as she looks around.

“Back from...” it’s like she still doesn’t remember what exactly happened to her, Futaba notices, and like on cue, her eyes go wide when they stop on all the blood on the floor, “Is that mine?”

Nobody can really answer, all still too shaken by what has been more than a close call – it has only been a close call at all because Morgana literally brought Makoto back to life – so she looks at Ann, who is closest to her at the moment, and the blonde simply nods.

“I... should be dead from losing all that,” she mumbles, and Futaba notices Ann visibly flinching at the words.

She wonders if what Ann feels for Makoto is of the same intensity of what she herself feels for Makoto.

Though looking at Ann right now, and back when Makoto had been dead, there’s really no need to wonder.

Futaba tries to pretend it doesn’t make her feel a little jealous, because it’s not fair to Ann who has been nothing but loving to her.

It’s not like anyone but Futaba herself knows how she feels anyway.

Ann delicately wipes the blood from the corner of Makoto’s mouth with her thumb, and her eyes are distant and dark.

“You were.”

It’s all she says, unable to look Makoto in the eye. The brunette looks at the others for confirmation, and their silence, plus the way they’re all still shaking, says it all.

“Then how...?” her voice is shaking too, and it’s Akira who answers this time:

“Mona literally revived you,” he rubs Morgana’s head and he purrs tiredly, “I didn’t even know he could do that.”

She still looks a little lost, but has the presence of mind to look at Morgana and say, voice still weak:

“Thank you, Mona.”

Morgana nods happily and allows Akira to actually hold him, letting himself rest. Makoto’s eyes finally meet Futaba’s, and it’s like something in her clicks.

“You’re okay,” her voice is overwhelmingly relieved, and for some reason, that makes Futaba break down all over again. Ann lets Makoto go, smiling, and Futaba rushes to Makoto, all but throwing herself in her arms, doing the same as Ann had before, and crying into her shoulder.

Makoto sighs, even more relieved than before, and holds her like she’s never gonna see her again, and that makes Futaba cry even harder. Makoto just holds her tighter.

“You were dead!” the redhead cries, not caring about all the pairs of eyes certainly on her right now, “I saw you die and I could do nothing to help you and it was just like my mom all over again—”

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m okay,” Makoto tries to soothe her, and Futaba’s getting even more blood all over her clothes but she doesn’t care, because Makoto’s here, she’s _alive,_ she hasn’t been taken from her and maybe Futaba’s not cursed after all.

Since Futaba says nothing as Makoto holds her, the others take the chance to speak up:

“Man, don’t _ever_ scare us like that again, Queen,” Ryuji laughs, wiping away a teardrop from his eye, “You even went and made me cry!”

“Yes, it was quite startling,” Yusuke’s voice is still shaking a little, but he sounds much calmer than a few minutes ago, “it is truly a relief to have you back and okay.”

“Um, Queen!” Haru still has tears running down her cheeks, but she’s speaking again, and smiling kindly, “I am so glad you’re okay! It was really scary when Oracle said you weren’t breathing... and when we saw you... I’m just so happy Mona brought you back to us!”

Morgana, apparently calming down and going back to his usual self, lets out a satisfied, but immensely happy, purr.

“Yes, but in all seriousness,” Akira says, his voice regaining its usual inflection, the boy starting to go back into leader mode, “I’m not leaving anyone in backup without supplies anymore. If this taught us anything, it’s that it was an irresponsible decision to hoard all supplies with the primary group in the front line. If anything, you guys in backup need it more since you’re split into groups of two while we’re in a group of four.”

“It’s probably the best thing to do,” Ann agrees, rubbing her eyes. “I think we should give Queen some space,” she gets up, and puts a hand on Makoto’s shoulder. Ryuji seems a little confused, but the others glance at Futaba, still in Makoto’s arms, and instantly seem to understand the message Ann’s trying to get across: _Give them some time._

Akira pulls the others to the left side of the room under the excuse of discussing tactics, and they all follow. Makoto, in turn, gets up with some difficulty, still a bit disoriented, and she and Futaba walk to the furthermost right corner of the room, sitting on a big metal box that seems to be some sort of container.

Futaba makes a mental note to avoid this particular safe room from now on; nobody’s scrubbing that blood off the floor, and Futaba really doesn’t want to be reminded of Makoto’s literal death right in front of her eyes.

The redhead doesn’t waste time in nestling herself in Makoto’s arms once again, and sighs comfortably when the older girl holds her. She feels tears threatening to spill again when she thinks of how one of the most loving, caring people she has ever met had sacrificed herself to save her with no hesitation at all.

Her mind flashes back to her Palace and she vividly recalls how while the others were assuming defensive positions around her to protect her from her twisted cognition of her mother, Makoto had been quite literally shielding her with her body, a hand on her back to try to ground her.

Makoto had been so protective of her from the start, even when she barely knew her.

She closes her eyes and clings onto the brunette tighter.

They stay there, holding each other in silence while the others discuss tactics and supplies on the other side of the room. Neither Makoto nor Futaba say a thing until they get out of the safe room and go back to the entrance, calling it a day, the two deliberately staying close to each other the whole way.

....................................................

  
Futaba insists Makoto stay the night. She’s still scared because of what happened and doesn’t feel comfortable not having Makoto in the room with her.

Makoto complies, of course. The whole thing was her fault, and damn it if she isn’t gonna make it up for the girl.

When they sit on the bed, Futaba doesn’t lose time in climbing into her arms again. Makoto willingly holds her.

“You’re not actually gonna stop clinging to me for at least two more days, are you?” Makoto jokes, an easy smile on her face.

Futaba doesn’t smile back as she stares at the wall.

“You died.”

It’s all she says, and Makoto feels a pang of guilt and hurt in her chest. She hugs the redhead tighter, breathing deeply.

“I’m so sorry, Futaba,” she says, tucking the girl’s head under her chin, “I never wanted you to see that. I just... you were in danger, and it was... automatic, you know? Like I was on auto-pilot. Jumping in front of you was the only thing I could think of to protect you.”

They say nothing for a couple of minutes.

“I’m never letting you get hurt, even if it kills me. I mean it.”

This makes Futaba raise her head in admiration and look at Makoto dead in the eye, her eyes wide.

Here, like this, she can see things in Makoto she never noticed before. How her warm eyes seem to shine and light up as she looks at Futaba now, how calm her breathing is even after having literally died in the Palace this same afternoon, died for her. How soft her lips look.

She blurts it out before she can even think it through.

“I wanna kiss you.”

If Makoto is startled at the words, she doesn’t show. She simply blinks in slight surprise, and the hint of a smile appears on her lips. She gently takes Futaba’s chin in her hand and slowly leans in, eyes on the redhead’s lips, and all Futaba can think as she draws closer is _“oh fuck this is really happening I’ve never kissed anyone before and she’s gonna kiss me just because I said I wanted to—”_

Makoto’s breath on her lips cut her inner monologue short, and Futaba freezes. The anticipation is almost physically painful as the brunette just stays there, her mouth so close to her own, giving her a chance to back away. And Makoto finally blinks, licks her lips and closes the distance between them.

It’s like everything she ever imagined it’d be. The kiss is soft, and Makoto is unbelievably gentle, doing nothing but tentatively press her lips against Futaba’s, refusing to move until the other girl responds. And when Futaba finally acknowledges what’s happening, her eyelids slide closed and she tilts her head to the side, kissing Makoto back.

The brunette moves now, still slow and cautious, but Futaba’s way harsher and more enthusiastic – not only because she’s inexperienced, but also because Makoto _literally died today and God, she almost lost her—_

When she notices Futaba’s desperation in the kiss, Makoto allows herself to be a little more outgoing – but not too much – and wraps one arm around the smaller girl’s lower back, pulling her closer. She responds by wrapping both of hers around Makoto’s neck and almost forcefully pulling her down, fingers desperately tangling in short brown hair as if afraid the girl might evaporate at any second.

The redhead tries but fails to hold back a short, almost pained whine out of nothing but emotion – this girl jumped in front of a sword and bled to death to save her, and she loves her so much for being so selfless, and patient, and understanding, and _kind._ She pulls her even closer, and holds her tighter, because she never wants to let go again, and feels elated when she feels Makoto hold her back with the same intensity.

They’re both breathless by the time they pull away, and Futaba’s flustered, her heart feeling like it’s going to jump out of her chest. She opens her eyes and immediately seeks eye contact with Makoto, whose hair is ruffled and unruly from having Futaba’s hands tangled in it. Her eyes are as warm and kind as always, though her pupils seem slightly dilated.

Instinctively, she pulls the taller girl down and presses her forehead against hers, closing her eyes again with a sigh. Makoto doesn’t protest, and they stay like that for several seconds, the redhead’s arms still wrapped around the brunette’s neck, and Makoto’s still pressing against Futaba’s lower back, pulling her body against hers.

“Please, please don’t die for me again,” Futaba whispers, certainly inaudible if Makoto weren’t this close to her.

The older girl responds by lifting her other hand and moving a strand of red hair away from Futaba’s face, tucking it behind her ear and caressing her face when she brings her hand back down. Futaba brings up one of her own hands to hold Makoto’s in place on her cheek, signaling for her to leave it there, before wrapping her arm around Makoto’s neck again.

“I’ll try not to” Makoto replies, kissing her cheek sweetly, “though you keep kissing me like that and I might just die.”

Futaba lowers her gaze and feels her cheeks burning. She says nothing, and Makoto smiles a little in amusement.

“This is the first time I’ve ever kissed someone,” the redhead says, flustered, still not looking at Makoto in the eye.

Before she can do anything, Makoto gives her a short, but slow, peck on the lips and Futaba finds herself instinctively leaning into it.

“It certainly didn’t feel like it,” Makoto says, “you’re a good kisser.”

When Futaba thought she couldn’t get any more flustered.

Makoto chuckles at her reaction and gently bumps her nose against hers.

“Kiss me again?” Makoto asks, sweetly, and Futaba barely waits for her to finish her request before tilting her head up and pressing her lips against the taller girl’s once more.

She could definitely get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, if you liked it, please be sure to leave a comment :)
> 
> (I also am not a doctor and am not sure of how medically accurate this death scene is, so feel free to point out any inaccuracies!)


End file.
